How I Learned To Love Toxic Waste
by AmiraStarr
Summary: Two bickering southerners walk into a quarantine room… How many walk out? The X-Men may never know. Romy.
1. Remy- Day 1

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Summary: Two bickering southerners walk into a quarantine room… How many walk out? The X-Men may never know.**

 **Thanks for looking at this story guys and gals. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to read this story. These are going to be short snippets highlighting the various things that happen to Rogue and Remy while they are stuck together for thirty days.**

* * *

"This is all your fault, Swamp Rat." Rogue, the current undefeated holder of the X-Men's most sullen team member award, growled at me for the forty-third time.

Seriously, I counted.

You'd think she would have thrown in a, ' _Hey, thanks for saving me from the falling robot and all_ ' or ' _Man, if it hadn't been for you I would be a puddle of too much make-up and bitterness right now_ ' if for nothing more than a little diversity. But no, all little miss sourpuss could yell, grumble, and roar was that this whole thing was _my_ fault. As if I could have known there was some toxic chemical spill out in that wasteland. No, I was far too busy pulling her ass, as eye-catching as it may be, from certain death to really stop and consider where we would land.

I only joined the X-Geeks about a month ago. It wasn't anything grand or some sudden urge to join the ranks of goody-goody land. The whole move was mostly out of boredom. Bucket-head seemed at a loss for a good challenge to give his hired hands, and there was something hilarious about watching the preppier X-Men flinch in surprise when they saw me. Besides, at least here I could keep myself busy chasing a certain curvy brunette. Granted, I never imagined they'd stick said brunette and me together in a room for thirty days.

At least the scrubs they gave us to wear, after burning our contaminated clothes, left little to the imagination. Catching glances of her fit physique through the thin material almost made up for them daring to burn my coat. Then again, it was one damn amazing coat…

"Just keep your eyes in your head, Cajun." Rogue snarled out when she noticed my grin, "And stay on your side of the room!"

"You're shiverin' Chere." I leaned forward and gave her my most dashing smile, "Seems smarter to snuggle together and share a little body heat, no?"

"Cross that line." She pointed to the makeshift divider, made from the roll of masking tape she found in the only cabinet in the room, "And I promise you, that you will not make it out of this room alive."

I chuckled at her scrunched up face, forcing her fists to clench in pure frustration and her shoulders to shake ever so slightly. Too bad no one told that determined spitfire just how much I like a good challenge. Maybe thirty days in quarantine wouldn't be so bad after all…


	2. Rogue - Day 3

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thanks for looking at the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at and read the newest chapter. Thanks again and have a nice day.**

* * *

They say the first thing to go is your mind. I can't remember if that saying is about being old or going insane, but that only serves my point even more. Three days in this room and I am already considering _exactly_ how I will get rid of that Cajun.

The only place in the room that offers any kind of area to plan his demise, or to just think without being stupidly grinned at, is the bathroom. The main space is furnished in fifties-bomb-shelter-chic. Two sets of bunk beds placed on opposite walls, one bureau of supplies and bedding on the far left side of the room, and a metal table bolted to the floor with four fold-up chairs in the direct center complete the look. At least the bathroom is modernized; full sized shower/tub combo, toilet, sink, and extra large wall mirror.

McCoy is very concerned about possible contamination from our roll in the mystery goo, but I'm pretty sure this is being horribly overblown. How many comic books throw someone in toxic waste and they come out with super powers? By that logic, seems like the only thing we'd have to worry about would be walking out of here as normal people.

If anything does happen and I end up growing a unicorn horn or a third ear, it will be Remy LeBeau's fault. This whole thing is because of him and his inability to keep those damn hands to himself. I mean, come on, he is the reason they invented the personal space bubble. Sure, he will bemoan that if he hadn't thrown us in that puddle the robot would have squashed me. Given a choice? I would rather be a squashed robot butt pancake.

Logan is the only other person in the entire mansion that seems to realize how ridiculous this all is. Everyone else keeps coming up to the clear wall during visiting hours and whimpering out some sort of 'B _e strong and hold on_ ' statement. How I wish the Rogue and Remy show was just a very bad joke. But oh no, this train wreck is real.

They put a curtain up on the other side of the clear wall, which opens at nine every morning and closes at eight every night. A chance to have our friends nearby for moral support, my ass. It is a sideshow for curious mutants. I will never be able to enjoy a trip to the zoo again. All those oily faces pressed up against the glass trying to coax you over to talk to them, is enough to make the most rational individual lash out.

" _Come on_ , Chere." Remy yelled through the bathroom door for the fourth time in the past half-hour, "I'll give ya your clubhouse back later, but right now Remy would like at least one turn with the bathroom."

I crossed my arms and glared at my side of the door as the order of my plans shifted. First, I would free the animals in the zoo and lead the rampage against spectators, and then I would plan Remy's demise.


	3. Remy - Night 6

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thanks to everyone who is reading this story. Thank you to tx peppa for the lovely reviews. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to read this story. Thanks again and have a nice day.**

* * *

Rogue talks in her sleep.

You'd think it be something personal or maybe a whisper of my name. Nope. She spends at least five minutes a night mumbling through what sounds an awful lot like that old car commercial jingle. The real annoying one with the man yelling over and over that 'our _cars are the best cars, out of east coast and west cars_ '. Why the heck would that be the thing to stick in her subconscious? Who dreams about car commercials anyway? If you wait long enough, though, she will take conversation requests.

Figured out that interesting little tidbit on our third night. Couldn't sleep through my body's craving for nicotine and she had finally lost her internal battle to never fall asleep in front of me. She took a few naps here and there, but this time she was totally out.

Wasn't looking to disturb her. Really. I half-hoped a decent night of sleep would pry that stick out of her butt and convince her to lighten up. But when she suddenly muttered, ' _How many coins is it worth_?' I couldn't help myself…

"What you wanna buy, Chere?"

"The glass bear…" She gave the tiniest wheeze and snuggled under her covers. "Free bear."

I sat for a good portion of the night trying to piece that one together. Thankfully, the following conversations were a _little_ easier to understand. Night four she wanted to know if there was pizza left over and night five she declared she was an artist. Personally, I like sleeping Rogue. It is the only time she will talk to me without snarling like a rabid dog.

Not to mention that smile. Yeah, she smiles in her sleep sometimes too. Not like I'd ever see one of those on sourpuss' face when she was awake. That girl could be one of the hottest in the city if she would break out that grin in public more often.

The other thing you learn about the car jingle queen pretty quickly is just how much she hates needles. Can't say I like McCoy's multiple blood samples either, but the moment those hazmat suits enter our area she gets all wide-eyed and fidgety. The way she watches the entry door has me totally convinced that she is planning her escape.

Curious and still insomniac-ly craving one of those sweet, sweet cigarettes, I decided to try something different that night. Once Rogue was fast asleep and let out her first mumble, I pulled a fold-up chair next to her bedside and whispered, "You are not afraid of needles."

"Needles…no.." She frowned and shook her head.

"You're tougher than a needle."

"Tougher…"

"Right. You aren't scared."

"Not scared."

"And," Seemed like it was going well, so I wittily added, "Remy LeBeau is the sexiest man alive."

Who knew that statement would be enough of a shock to wake her up? She got halfway through the sentence, then her eyes popped open and she gave me the angriest glare I've ever seen. Gotten my share of looks that could kill, but that one, and her sneakily quick uppercut, literally knocked me off the chair.

Okay, _maybe_ , I stepped over a line with my last thoughtful suggestion. But I still say trying to break my nose and commandeering the bathroom as her bedroom is overkill. I mean, it was _my_ positive strength talks she repeated over and over again at our next blood drawing!


	4. Rogue - Day 7

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men. I Also Do Not Own The Games Trouble, Sorry, Or The Mystery Date Game.**

 **Thank you everyone for reading the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your days to look at and read this story.**

* * *

"Pick a card, any card."

I will never forgive Kitty.

"Memorize your card, and slide it back into the deck,"

Seriously, she is now on _the list_.

"Now, Remy will shuffle the cards."

The room was stocked with some basic entertainment supplies; board games older than dirt, a few pieces of exercise equipment, and that dastardly deck of cards. Watching Remy drum his fingers on any surface his hand touched had proven he was in full detox mode. Hadn't been able to decide if it was his cancer sticks or cards he missed most, but there was no question now. The moment he dug the deck out of our chest of fun, he wouldn't stop grinning and shuffling and shuffling and grinning. That was annoying, but I could live with it.

Then Kitty brought us presents. She stopped by the bookstore and got me the newest murder mystery and decided it just wouldn't be fair to leave Remy empty-handed. Did she pick him up a normal, simple story? No. In a sudden moment of inspiration, Katherine Pryde decided Remy would enjoy a book on card tricks. Not just basic card tricks, either. She sprung for the book, _A thousand and one tricks to amaze your friends and family_. We were only on trick number fourteen.

"Was your card th-"

"It was the ace of spades," I grumbled and rubbed my temple. How did he not have blisters on each fingertip by now?

"Does Remy sense a hint of animosity there, Chere?" He asked coolly as ever.

"Remy gonna sense my boot in his shin if he tries one more card trick."

"Fine." He relented and shoved the cards into the pocket of his sweat pants. One thing we did agree on, a shock to both of us, was quarantine clothing was pretty sucky.

"Fine? That's it? You'll really stop that incessant shuffling?"

"Sure," The curve of his smile started to twitch upward, causing my relief to dissipate, "On one condition."

I sighed in frustration and stared at him from across the table, "I am going to ask what it is, and if you try or say anything stupid I will knock your ass to the ground so quickly you won't know what hit you."

"That idea sounds more fun than Remy's." He laughed and leaned back in his chair without a care. I don't know if I could out maneuver him when we were both fully awake, but I'd sure as heck try if he didn't wipe that idiotic smile off his face.

"You are on thin ice, Cajun." I growled out at him, "Spit it out already."

"As much fun as staring at you has been, Chere." He dared to give me a wink, and seemed entertained by my groan, "Remy's brain needs a little more stimulation. So, you play at least one game with me a night and I'll never say pick a card again."

"Promise?" I would play a thousand games of Trouble, Sorry, or even The Mystery Date game in the chest to have that reward.

"Promise."

"So," I leaned back in my chair thinking I finally won something, "What game tonight?"

"Gin rummy."

I dropped my head onto the cold table and let out a list of curse words Wolverine would be proud of then snarled, "Damn you and all your cards, Swamp Rat."


	5. Remy - Night 7

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you guys and gals for taking time out of your busy lives to look at this chapter and the past ones. Thanks to tx peppa for her lovely reviews. I hope you all have a lovely day and enjoy this story.**

* * *

Know those signs in plane bathrooms that say don't mess with the smoke detector? Listen to them.

After endless promises and guilt tripping some of the mansion's easier targets, I finally got someone willing to sneak a cigarette into my room. The word alone sounded like a thing of pure beauty! I don't care what Rogue says about my so-called _cancer sticks_. I mean, we could have some crazy toxic disease. Don't I deserve at least one last request before we turn blue or grow an extra toe?

By dinner, my fingers were practically twitching at the thought of what was hidden on one of the plates. I tried to keep my excitement level down to not alert anyone. You see, it was Kitty's turn to cook and even we weren't saved from her newest mystery dish. Only an idiot would act excited about anything petit cooked. Hazmat suit McCoy brought our meals on paper plates like always, and I almost blew the whole thing by eyeing the pile of rock-hard rolls a little too closely.

"You're up to something," The jingle queen mumbled as she sniffed a forkful of the supposedly edible food.

"Moi?" I chuckled and forced my throat to swallow the orange stuff, "What makes you think Remy be up to anything?"

"Save it Cajun." She raised an eyebrow and squinted the other green eye suspiciously, "I can sense you are plotting something."

"Maybe you're just feeling the natural attraction between us, Chere."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but dropped the topic. I forced myself to stay professional throughout the rest of the evening. When it came time for our leftovers and plates to be destroyed, just like everything that came into contact with us had to be, I volunteered to help McCoy clean up. Hadn't been able to sneak my friends out earlier thanks to Rogue's constant stares. So while he threw the dinner plates into the bag I silently slipped my prize out from beneath the untouched pile of rolls.

I thought Rogue would never fall asleep. Waited until she started her first round of midnight discussions, then walked casually over to the bathroom. I already knew the adults in the mansion had us under surveillance twenty-four seven. The big mirror on the wall near Rogue's bunk beds was a little too randomly placed to be normal. Besides, even the professor wouldn't trust us to not kill each other or try more _interesting_ activities if left alone. Yeah, I knew she was more likely to land on the beating me senseless side of that argument, but a guy can dream can't he?

Inside the bathroom was a regular looking smoke detector. McCoy explained to us on day one that even the air we breathed was being sucked out and destroyed to avoid any cross contamination with the mansion's regular air vents. Whatever smoke I made would be sucked up and no one would be any the wiser.

I'd dealt with far more complicated systems than that one and never had a problem. Still, I took the time to completely take the thing apart and double-check all of my work. Wasn't taking any chances when it came to my way overdue nicotine needs being met.

I lit the first cigarette with the tip of my finger and took a very slow breath. The familiar warmth spread through my whole body, instantly relaxing all the tension in my muscles. It was perfect.

Then the sirens began to wail…

Almost dropped my hard-fought reward as a robotic voice began shouting that smoke was detected in the quarantine area and evacuation measures should be taken. I could hear a thud, then Rogue cursing and stomping around the room. All of which was quickly followed by the telltale sound of our secured door being opened and shut. Fuck.

The bathroom door was almost ripped off its hinges then replaced with the bloodthirsty expression of hazmat-suited Logan. He grabbed my shirt collar and drug me out of the bathroom. Didn't plan it, though I'll gladly admit it was damn hilarious, but the smoke I'd been holding in blew right into his covered face. Pretty sure he was about to rip right through his suit with them claws before McCoy somehow pulled him back.

"I'd wipe that smirk off your face," Rogue told me through the smuggest smile I'd ever seen, "You got no idea how much trouble you just walked into."

"What they gonna do, Chere?" I shot back bitterly mourning that half-smoked cigarette, "Lock me in my room?"


	6. Rogue - Evening 8

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read the previous chapter. Thank you to ParisaZarisa for her lovely review. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at this story. Thanks again and here is the newest chapter:**

* * *

"If you were a kitchen item," I rested my feet comfortably on the metal table and watched Remy pace back and forth, "Would you be a, the oven; b, the fridge; or c, the sink?"

Remy paused halfway through his pacing and threw another two pieces of gum into his mouth. That was part of his reprimand for trying to disable the smoke detector and turn our room into the smoking section. His privileges were cut (Though, really, how much lower could they get after being forced to sit in this place for thirty days?) and a steady supply of nicotine gum was sent in with our daily cart of stuff. Of course, I am pretty sure Logan was still waiting for Remy to get a clean bill of health, so he could then have the pleasure of sending the guy right back to the infirmary.

"What the hell is that supposed to prove?"

"Says the oven means you are the center of the room and warm to everyone. The fridge is popular but emotionally cold. And the sink means you are an emotional drain for everyone's problems."

Remy stood in front of the table with a surprised look on his face, "Are you telling me women take this crap seriously?"

"Some do, I guess." I shrugged my shoulders and decided it was still more fun to look at Kitty's contribution to our cart of fun instead of the schoolwork I had to finish. "Answer the question, Remy."

"Fine. Make me a toaster."

"That isn't an opti-" I paused as the curiosity got the better of me, "Why would you want to be a toaster?"

"Stealthy and yet always ready for action." He winked at me, finding a hint of his old charms through his nicotine detox.

"Just for that, I am writing down the sink." I rolled my eyes and read the next question to myself before Remy pushed the magazine down and stared into my eyes like he had the world's most important question hanging in the balance.

"What are you, Chere?"

"I don't know." I shrugged my shoulders again and tried to think of something random, "Microwave?"

"Speedy delivery and a lot of buttons to push?" Remy smiled that crooked little grin and jumped back before I could swat him with the magazine, "Very fitting."

"Look, just answer the next question and shut up about kitchens."

"Fine, fine. What you want to know next?"

"What type of bedroom-" I closed the magazine and put my feet back on the ground, "You know what? Let's forget this. I have some math worksheets to do."

"Oh no!" Remy laughed happily and took the magazine impressively quickly to read the next one aloud, "What type of bedroom fixture would you be? A, the comfortable and inviting bed; b, the lonely and mismatched nightstand; or c, the pretty southern girl drooling over a particularly handsome Cajun?"

"It does not say that." With an annoyed sigh, I pushed his little antics behind me and marched over to the rolling cart for my math worksheets.

Remy was silent, but I could feel him standing very closely behind me when I stood back up. I will say this for the guy, even in the middle of quarantine he smells pretty good. The few times we had been close to each other since he joined the X-Men, I always found myself trying to figure out what exactly made him smell that nice. Generally, I had decided, it must be a mix of cigarettes and some kind of mystery spice.

"So," he mumbled into my ear, "We gonna score this test and see how compatible we are, no?"

You know, the strangest part of the past eight days was probably the fact that at that moment, I was actually almost, dare I say it, curious about what that test would say about us. I couldn't see Remy and I being anywhere near compatible personality wise. I mean, we are as different as night and day. But still, way back in the far corner of my mind… I was actually questioning the possible results. So, with a slow breath, I set the papers down and turned to look at his grin.

"Alright, let's really take this thing, Swamp Rat."

He gave a cheeky grin and grandly motioned for me to step over to the table.

"You know this is only because you are a _little_ less boring than calculus, right?"

"It's a start, Chere." He chuckled and pulled out my chair for me, "Who knows? You may finally see we be made for each other after this."


	7. Remy - Night 10

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men. I Do Not Own The Song 'Tear Jerk' By Joe DiPietro.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who read the past chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at this story. Thank you to ParisaZarisa, tx peppa, and Mrs. Jehilew for the lovely reviews. This chapter is inspired by a song from the musical 'I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change.' The song is called 'Tear Jerk' and it is cute, especially if you see actors perform it on stage. I can't decide if this one seems out of character or not for Remy, so I'll just let you guys decide. Thanks again and here is the newest chapter:**

* * *

Well, this is going to be fun… Like unnecessary dental surgery levels of fun.

They gifted us with a television today and some DVDs. Seems there is no cable hookup available in medical land. Being the gentleman I am, I graciously offered to let Rogue pick our movie for the night. Seemed like a safe enough idea at the time. Four films to pick between and only one of them had a review with the words 'heartbreaking' and 'moving' on the cover. What you think miss dark and brooding picked?

Think she chose the sappiest one just to mess with my head.

So there we sat; a bowl of popcorn on her lap and her eyes glued to the most mindless drivel you could imagine. The whole premise is one of them boy meets girl at wrong time, they lose track of each other, she finds him years later married to a wife who is dying _very_ slowly (And man, did this director make it S-L-O-W!), and then they, as only tragic romance characters can, suddenly realize they were meant to be together after all.

"She knows he still loves his wife…" Rogue randomly whispered between handfuls of popcorn.

Hadn't heard much besides the over zealous movie soundtrack and her chewing for the past hour so it was a welcome noise change. I leaned back in my chair and tried to wiggle the foot that had fallen asleep. Man, I hate that pins and needles thing.

You know what really would have made this movie earn its place in the cinema hall of fame? A psychopath. I mean who would see that coming? The characters just sitting there having a boring little talk in the waiting room, and bam! Random chainsaw guy comes running through the screen.

"He just found out his wife's transplant failed." Rogue piped up again, with dare I say it, a small twinge in her voice.

Looking back to the screen, I finally noticed just how pale the guy's wife really was. Most of the budget was probably spent on trying to convince those big name actors to sign up for this rubbish. Still, I had to admit the make-up on this thing was pretty good. That poor woman did look awfully sick…

Wait, a second! Did they just put a blanket over her head?!

"They're at the graveside now…" Rogue mumbled softly from somewhere beside me as I leaned forward to stare at the television.

"Homme is really trying to hold it together," I added under my breath as the pitiable man stood with one rose in his hand, and this downcast look like his whole world just caved in.

I felt kind of sorry for the guy, real or not. Here he was thinking he found the love of his life and now he's tearing himself up because she is dead and he knows she realized he had to have been at least thinkin' bout his old flame. And of course, the other lady is just as upset, thinking she broke up a marriage and pushed his wife into a literally broken heart… when really his wife wants him to be happy… and those two need each other more than ever no-

Wait. What is that?

Did I just feel something wet on my cheek? A tear. _Really_? Am I seriously crying over this garbage? No, no, no. This show isn't happening! I am not crying in front of Rogue unless there is some kind of mortal wound involved. Motorcycles, blisters, chainsaws… think of anything but…

"Can't they see that they need each other?!"

I slapped a hand over my mouth the second the words popped out. Rogue turned her head to look at me, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. I was ready for it. Any snide, teasing, ridiculing taunt she could throw out. Seeing me yell at a television and fight tears due to a chick flick seemed like an easy target for anyone, let alone an expert like Rogue.

She took a slow, jagged breath and opened her full lips to say, "I know right!"

Maybe, there _is_ a soft spot under those pounds of make-up. I took a handful of popcorn from her bowl and spent the rest of the night humorously debating how many movie characters would be alive today if they had only listened to the audience's thoughts.


	8. Rogue - Day 11

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you to everyone who looked at the past chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at this chapter and story. Thank you again for all of your time, and here is the newest chapter:**

* * *

"What is that stuff?" I asked as McCoy rolled in an extra cart alongside our normal one.

"Didn't he tell you?" The older man looked towards Remy who gave him a wink. McCoy laughed softly and glanced back to me, "Oh my, sorry about that. It seems I almost ruined the surprise."

Remy and the doctor having their own little meeting about something? Well, that can't be good. Sure, I trusted Beast not to throw me under the bus, but that doesn't mean I approve of being kept out of the loop. You should never, ever be kept in the dark when that Cajun is involved.

"Merci, mon ami." Remy, confident as ever, stood up from the bed he had been relaxing on and walked over to the cart.

"Alright, Swamp Rat. What did you do this time?"

"Always think the worst of people don't you, Chere?"

"Certain people." I countered as he placed a hand over his heart in mock pain. "So what is this mysterious surprise?"

"Remy figure," He whipped the cloth off of the cart to reveal a large selection of paints and brushes. "We could use a window in here."

Okay, I will give him that a window would be amazing.

Who am I kidding? A window would be amazingly, awesomely, freakin' fantastic! I haven't seen sunlight or smelled a fresh breeze in who knows how long. But I wasn't quite sure how paints were going to fix a construction problem. Unless he expected to charge the cans and throw them at the wall or something. Seemed wild enough to come out of Remy's head.

"An artist such as yourself can't see the master plan?" He smiled and tugged at my gloved hand so I would walk closer to the cart.

"How did you know I like art?"

"Not important." He quickly swept aside the idea and handed me a brush. "Now, how about we brighten this place up some?" He took his own thin brush and painted a giant rectangle on the largest free wall space. "Just add scenery, and instant window."

I blinked, unable to fathom how he arranged such an idea without letting me know anything. The only way he could have gotten this many supplies and approval from McCoy was to go through the channels of asking the adults. He had to have been sneaking around even more than I realized was possible to make that many connections while sitting right beside me. Really, though I felt strange saying it, the whole thing was kind of sweet.

Remy motioned to the wall, not waiting for or demanding a thank you, and smiled as I stepped up and started to paint the sun in the far left corner. We worked in silence mainly, only stopping to pass some colors back and forth or make random comments about certain artistic choices.

"What is that?" I asked as he started adding details to his newest addition.

"What it look like?" He added with a bit of humorous pride, "A beau femme."

"Her boobs are bigger than her head."

"She got some good genes."

"And her thumbs are on the wrong side of her hands." A small laugh escaped my lips as he gave an exaggerated sigh and pointed his brush at me.

"Creativity knows no bounds, Chere."

"Well then," I leaned closer to him and swiftly outlined a muscular man with thumbs that just happened to be incorrect. "At least she isn't alone in this artistic wonderland of yours."

"Mushy movies and coupling up imaginary people? People gonna start thinking you got a heart in there somewhere, Chere."

The blush overcame my cheeks quicker than I thought, so I turned from him and started to add flowers to the other half of the picture. It wasn't like I cared what he thought about my drawings or movie opinions. I couldn't care in the slightest what Remy LeBeau thought about anything. But, as he laughed softly and turned to the side to add a goatee to my man drawing, I found myself smiling.

"Remy,"

Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Yeah, there was that sleazy side and flirts with anything in a skirt half and the thief part and that strange habit he had of sitting next to my bedside and… I shook my head when my train of thought started to jump off the tracks. The main thing was that Remy had a kind side and it actually impressed me that he went through all this to make me happy.

"I just wanted to say thanks for doing this whole thin-" I paused as my eyes settled on the picture he was fixing. Suddenly, the considerate side seemed a little more mischievous, "Why are you putting my hair coloring on… Are you seriously painting me as the wrong-thumbed bimbo Remy LeBeau!?"


	9. Remy - Night 12

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you to everyone who looked at the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at this story and the chapter. Thanks to Mrs. Jehilew, Mrs. Chaton, tx peppa, and Wiccamage for their reviews. Thanks again and here is the newest chapter:**

* * *

Real men have a sense of honor. A moral code they live by and respect, that helps keep balance in a wild and unpredictable world. My own code has a big section on the importance of competition and sticking with a challenge no matter how hard it gets…

At least, that was the shit I tried to keep telling myself as I sat with a spoon balanced on my nose.

It all seemed so simple four hours earlier. Pull out a board game, roll the dice, maybe make a side bet, and, of course, ensure the dice landed _just_ right. I mean, come on, ethics and all that junk are only great to a certain point. If an interesting enough prize landed on my lap, I wouldn't just sit back and let it go. Besides, who would have thought she'd keep such a close eye on the game?

One slip of the hand and she shot off like a firecracker. Thought I would never hear the end of it! Took practically every charm and smile in my book to quiet her up and reduce her original idea of kicking my shin's into simply taking back my turn. Rogue has a lot going for her (my favorites, in ever-changing order, being those luscious curves, bright smile, and that little stubborn fire in her eyes), but man, can she beat you down over one simple mistake. Like _nobody_ in the entire world ever pushed a dice on the floor with their foot!

Either way, taking back my turn put us in a whole new situation; a tie. Never considered myself all that stubborn. At least, not Rogue's trademark brand of bull-headedness stubborn. No, mine is more of a determined type. I like to win. Actually, I like to win a whole lot. And it seems, unfortunately, the stubborn X-Man with a matching spoon balanced on her nose, enjoys it just as much.

"We really gonna do this, Chere?" I asked with as little facial movement as possible.

"You wanna play _another_ game of tic-tac-toe, Cajun?" She added with matching frozen features.

Damn. She might not fall for the tactic of making her talk so easily.

"After thirty draws? I don't want to see that game ever again."

The entire floor within a three-foot radius was covered in paper. If she hadn't of banned cards and dice rolling tiebreakers, this whole thing could have been settled ages ago. Maybe she noticed my foot move the die, but even Rogue couldn't catch my card tricks. All that was left was the art of distraction. But what could get her to jump without knocking my spoon off?

"You know," I drawled out charmingly, well, as charmingly as anyone trying not to stare cross-eyed at a spoon can, "This is pretty childish."

"Won't work."

"No, no." I pushed forward, risking to give her a little curved grin. The spoon wiggled a moment but didn't fall. "No tricks, Chere. Just sayin' we're both mature people who don't need to resort to this to settle a tie."

"And to prove that you expect us to take our spoons off on the count of three?" She replied in her usual grumbling tone.

"Remy be willing." I dared to add a tiny extra tilt to my smile.

"Remy be willing to gloat after I took off my spoon and you didn't." She somehow managed to glare at me and not move her spoon an inch. "Besides, this whole thing is your fault."

"Why does that sound familiar?" I rolled my eyes and regretted it when the spoon gave a solid wiggle. Crap, I was falling into my own trap. "Look, Chere, Remy not trying to cause trouble."

"Please," She scoffed and grew more annoyed, just as I planned, "Like I can't see right through your little stunt."

"Rogue," We were nearing a critical junction as my spoon shifted once more, "You know Remy is just lookin' out for you. Besides, if I was really out to upset ya, I'd just mention that little freckle I saw on you-"

"Remy." Rogue busted into the conversation before I could finish my hollow statement and grabbed the hem of her shirt. My eyes darted to the long, slender fingers grasping the dark green fabric. Before a word could be uttered, she yanked the shirt up.

All right, yeah, I jumped. And yeah, my spoon fell to the floor. What guy could just sit there in front of Rogue when she suddenly decided to rip off her t-shirt? None! Absolutely none.

And how many of those very same guys would be absolutely, completely, royally ticked off to be greeted by a smugly smiling Rogue fully clothed in a black tank top? Every stinkin' one.

"Who's cheating now?" I complained with a disapproving frown.

"All's fair in love and war, Rems." She laughed at me and dared (which, hot as it may be, is still a jerk move) to give me a wink.


	10. Rogue - Morning 13

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you to everyone who looked at the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your lives to look at this story. I will admit that this one may be a little rougher since I had to use Google Translate so much. I know from talks with Mrs. Jehilew that sometimes Google translate can be a little off and some of the phrases are definitely a little off in this chapter since I couldn't quite do the word-for-word meaning. Anywho, hope it doesn't bother any of you who speak and/or read French well.**

* * *

Remy LeBeau is a big stupid crybaby.

Scratch that. Remy LeBeau is a big stupid _French_ crybaby.

All I did was beat him in one little board game and he goes all international on me! Seriously, _he_ is the one who _cheated_! Why am I the one getting the attitude? He thinks he is _so_ clever tossing out all those French phrases. Like I have no clue he is calling me every name in the book.

Really, I thought he was handling it all somewhat well. You don't spend thirteen days trapped with the same person and not pick up on their moods. Sure he was annoyed that he lost, but last night he was at least talking without requiring subtitles. Then all of a sudden, he comes out of the bathroom this morning with his man panties all in a twist.

"Je vis avec un slob complet! (I live with a complete slob!)"

"Hey!" I could pick out a few of those words even through the grumbles.

"Sérieusement, vous avez votre propre rasoir! (Seriously, you have your own razor!)"

Okay, that one was a little harder to piece together. Too bad for Monsieur LeBeau, I happened to have some high school French class under my belt. And no, I _absolutely_ did not take that because of him. I mean, I just happen to like the language a little. At least, I enjoyed it before the crazy croissant over there started protesting and throwing his hands in the air.

"Vous savez que vous pouvez nettoyer ce putain de vidange! (You know _you_ _can_ clean the damn drain!)" He pointed an accusatory finger at me, then added, "Vous vous rendez compte que méchante que la boule de poil que vous quittez est? (Do you realize how nasty that hairball you are leaving is?)"

"Oh yeah?!" My temper flared as I pulled out my French book and struggled through the best insult I could think of. "Well," It's not like a school textbook would offer many curse words, though. "Vous êtes une tête de céleri! (You're a celery head!)"

Remy paused his rants for a moment and stared at me with a slightly agape mouth. His left eyebrow began to slowly rise as the right one slid down, giving him a complete look of confusion and surprise. It was kind of exhilarating to finally be the one stumping him with my language skills. Bout time the shoe was on the other foot!

"And you know what?" I hobbled together the first sentence I could from the textbook's vocabulary list, "Vous êtes aussi intelligent que l'orteil d'un âne! (You are as clever as the toe of a donkey!)"

Suddenly, the shocked look on Remy's face began to shift. His hand covered his mouth and he closed both eyes for a moment. A deep, tiny, itty-bitty part of me worried for a second if whatever I said had really shaken him up. Then, those broad shoulders began to tremble and he took in a huge breath…. Oh, crap… Did I make him cry?

"That is the worst French Remy has ever heard!"

The jerk cackled and chuckled so hard his body shook! That idiot fucking laughed till a tear rolled down his cheek, and then kept on laughing as he walked over to me.

"Really, Chere," He wiped away a tear and, without a shred of his former frustration, poked my book, "Tell me you are not that poor of a French student."

"Hey!" I yanked the book from him and offered the sternest frown in my arsenal, "I'll have you know, that I have a solid C in French!"

"Must be un professeur miséricordieux (A merciful teacher)," He laughed once more to get it out of his system, then dared to wrap an arm around my shoulders, "What you say Remy tutors you till you actually earn a grade that high?"

"Yeah right, Cajun. You expect me to believe you would want to be all nice after all those curse words you been yelling at me?"

"Curses?" Remy blinked and suddenly grew a goofy grin like he had still managed to pull something over my head.

"Stop laughing Swamp Rat!" I pushed him away from my side and the boy fell into another deep round of chuckles, "I caught you and you know it! You can't just throw your French words around and expect me to not understand!"

"Oh, Chere," He stopped laughing for a moment and clutched his side, "Remy takes back his complaints." The man stepped forward again and swept my gloved hand up to his lips, "Vous pouvez être un slob complet, mais vous êtes mon slob préféré. (You _can_ be a complete slob, but you're my favorite slob.)"


	11. Remy - Evening 15

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you for reading the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at and read this story. Thank you to Coco-Chic, mizsharan, Jehilew, Dark Lord of the X-Men, and Wiccamage for the lovely reviews. I hope you guys enjoy the newest chapter, and if you don't know what Cotillion classes are, they are basically a fancy manners class followed by a ball at the end to show off what the students learned. Anywho, here we go with the newest chapter:**

* * *

Being an X-geek is like dating a super possessive woman. The type that wants to know where you are, what you're doing, and who you're doing it with every second of the day. They demand you celebrate idiotic events (seriously, there is _no_ such thing as a month-a-versary) then have a world-class freak-out the moment you mention the stupidity of the whole thing. Who honestly cares we're halfway through quarantine today?

"Aren't you going to wear your hat?" Rogue asked in a sassy tone before throwing an atrocious pointed hat at me.

I'm not kidding. They gave us cake, paper hats, and this big jug of tea Rogue randomly requested. Scratch the stupid anniversary metaphor. This thing was starting to reek like a nightmarish birthday party. By the time Rogue strapped on a crooked hat and plopped down across the table, I half-expected a cheesy costumed character to dance through the door.

"Polka-dots ain't exactly Remy's color, Chere."

"Well," She retorted with that feisty expression, before resting one of them obnoxious things on my head. "That's because it's a pattern, _not_ a color, Cajun."

I still hated the hat. I still believed this was dumb. I still knew she thought I was the most annoying thing in this mansion. Yet, more than any of that, I knew this was the first time Rogue stood close to me and honestly smiled. Something about that grin can do wonders for your attitude.

"Why you in such a good mood, petit?" I smiled as she sat down and poured her fifth glass of tea. "Sheet cake and streamers get your motor runnin'?"

" _Please_ ," She rolled her eyes, "Some of us can enjoy things without thinking only with what's in our pants."

"Where is the fun in that?" I took her jug of tea and noted the familiar smell instantly, "Well, well," Poured a hefty amount in my plastic cup then tipped it towards her, "No wonder you're so perky, Chere. Got a nice buzz going after that many glasses of _tea_ , eh?"

How Rogue snuck liquor in? I honestly didn't know. Actually, it was kind of impressive. Impressive and hot. Can't say I like being surprised, but the idea of Rogue tiptoeing around the big wigs and letting loose was damn awesome.

"It is a party, isn't it Swampie?" She smiled again and I couldn't help but grin back.

"You know, we never did pick a game for tonight." I winked at her. "Remy's thinking truth or dare."

"Yeah right. You dare me to strip, I barehand slap you, and you fall into a coma for the next two weeks… Actually, that isn't such a bad idea."

"Funny, Chere." She put a forkful of cake in her mouth and seemed rather amused by her idea, "My turn tonight, and you know it. So one lie, one truth it is."

"What kind of half-assed game is that?"

"Tell one truth and one lie. You guess right I drink. You guess wrong, you drink." She perked up at the explanation and stopped gobbling cake. "Ladies first, Chere."

"Fine." She thought for a second, "My favorite movie is Titanic or I was the one who filled the mansion's pool with bubbles."

"That's cheating." I swallowed a bite of cake and watched her scowl, "Remy happens to know both are true."

"There is no way you could know that… unless… you went through my stuff didn't you?!"

"Keep playing and you _might_ find out." I laughed as her little temper tantrum turned into a stuck-out lip and irritated grumble, "That is two big drinks for cheating, by the way."

Once she downed her two half-cups, I took my turn, "I looked through your stuff or I took cotillion classes."

"Ha!" She barked and pointed a finger at my chest, "That proves it! You _were_ snooping in my room."

"Another drink for you, Chere." It was hard to resist chuckling as she collapsed into the chair with a look of shocked anger.

"You really expect me to believe you took one of them frilly dance classes?"

"You think Remy came by all his charms naturally?" I pretended to polish my nails on my shirt and gave her an extra wide grin, "Was their best student ever, though. Broke quite a few hearts even at twelve."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Don't believe me Roguey?"

" _Duh_ , Cajun. Besides, what proof do I have that you aren't making this up?"

"Proof?" I stood up then pulled her up by her gloved hand, "Remy give you proof, Chere."

Although it been years since that class, and truthfully I had spent most of the time winking at the most popular girl and my first girlfriend (Hey, I was pretty irresistible from the start) Jenny McFarson, I was able to take the starting position easily. Rogue seemed confused but surprisingly didn't push me away as I rested one hand on her hip. Maybe it was just the extra glasses of _iced_ _tea_ , but part of me wanted to think some part of her was starting to enjoy being stuck together.

I twirled her around the room and by the end of our impromptu dance, we were both laughing at her lack of skill. She tried to pull out a frown as she yanked her hand from mine and walked back over to the table, but I knew better. As she picked up her glass, I could easily spot her bashful smile reflected in the wall mirror.

Yeah, she cusses me out daily and sometimes declares she hates my guts, but deep down, I think Rogue is enjoying my company more than she ever thought possible.

And, truthfully… I don't know if there is anyone else I'd rather be stuck with in this mess.


	12. Rogue - Day 16

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you for reading the previous chapter everyone. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy days to look at this story. Thank you for looking at the newest chapter and I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure if this chapter and the other are too mushy, but it was nice to write some silly happy chapters.**

* * *

We're going camping.

Yeah, you read that right. Took me a moment to let the idea sink in too.

It was a typical lazy morning in the quarantine bunker and I was content just to lie on my bed and fight my hangover. Apparently, that wasn't enough for mister can-drink-his-weight-in-alcohol-and-feel-nothing. Remy pulled a chair next to the foot of my bed and started asking random questions. Maybe it was because sitting up made me want to vomit or because I just didn't have the energy to kick him, but either way, I mumbled answers to every question.

"What is your plan for when they let us out?"

"Excuse me?" I dared to crack an eye open and stare at his face.

"You gotta do something special after surviving a toxic waste bath." He pointed out and motioned with his hand for me to say something.

"Well," I thought for a moment then went with the idea I'd considered even before this mess, "Kind of liked the idea of going camping."

"You've never been camping before?" His tone had this air of seriousness that seemed really out of place.

"Well, not a real trip. You know, great views, smores, no random mutant attack or battle in the middle. Just a nice relaxing hike by a waterfall or something might be fun."

"Get up."

"What?" I blinked open my eyes and watched Remy gather blankets from the other bunk beds. "Why, Cajun?"

"We," He started moving the chairs around and tossed a few blankets over them, "Are going camping." He turned from the start of his pretend shelter and faced me, "Sans waterfall, but definitely free of mutant attacks, Chere."

Due to a lack of a fully functioning brain, I took his offered hand and soon found myself delegated to dragging various fort supplies out from the cabinet of extra bedding. Remy, surprisingly, seemed to have a knack for design. He rigged the simple supplies into a tent large enough for at least four people to sleep in. I turned on the emergency lanterns and placed them by either side of the tent front, while Remy rigged the biggest flashlight to shine straight up to the ceiling of our fort.

"This is actually pretty neat." I laughed in spite of myself and watched him epically fail at copying my shadow puppet.

"What is that?" He questioned playfully and cupped a hand behind his ear, "Did Remy hear what he thought he heard? The resident sourpuss saying, ' _Thank you Remy LeBeau for making me this awesome tent?_ '"

"Better get that hearing checked, Swampie. You're imagining things."

"Oh," He continued in that teasing tone, "and you are so very grateful that you want nothing more than to tell the whole world how awesome I am?"

I threw a granola bar at his head and watched him grin so wide you could spot a little dimple on the left side of his face. Suddenly, I found myself wondering if his smile had always been that big. How had I never noticed the way he tilted his head and wiggled his eyebrows when something really made him laugh? It was almost, dare I think it, sweet.

"You know," Remy spoke up and forced me to look back at his eyes, "never did hear a no to that question. So…"

"In your dreams, Cajun." I threw another prepackaged snack at his head and he caught it one-handed.

"Every night, Chere. Every night."

I purposefully ignored him for another hour or so. The guy can twist everything you say into some kind of innuendo. Seems like the best defense is to say nothing and let him stew. Then again, every time I looked at him across the tent, he had that same silly grin and seemed completely at ease. Why was I the only one here with a seasick stomach and sweaty palms?

A little later while quietly munching on hot dogs, apparently whoever was watching us through the one-way mirror today figured we needed basic camping food; I started to reconsider my silent treatment. Yeah, Remy was annoying sometimes, but he actually did make a nice tent. Not to mention the French tutoring, the endless games of scrabble (my favorite), and of course our odd little wall mural. He wasn't perfect (by any stretch), but Remy LeBeau was pretty special.

"Marshmallow for your thought?" He offered me a strangely charred dessert heated by his own hand.

"Thanks, Remy," I twirled the treat in my hand and couldn't understand the way my stomach flipped when I looked back up at him, "For this whole thing. It's almost perfect."

"Almost?" He heated another marshmallow and waited for an answer with honest curiosity.

"Well… I just was thinking about starry skies, I guess." He crawled out of our tent and suddenly I felt bad for even mentioning it, "Remy, I didn't mean… This is great by itself. Don't be up-"

"Here," He crawled back into the tent and held up a piece of paper full of tiny holes.

We sat cross-legged with just the big flashlight between us, as he placed the paper over the light and gently taped the edges down. Instantly, the entire room was covered with teeny tiny stars. I forgot about the quarantine, the possibility of toxic side effects, and the rest of the outside world for a moment. All my brain could think to do was smile and stare at the stars on the ceiling and the shining star sitting right across from me.


	13. Remy - Day 17

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thank you to everyone for looking at the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at and read this story and chapter. Thank you for the lovely reviews JellyTotsBeTheBest, Jehilew, tx peppa, Mrs. Chaton, Dark Lord of the X-Men, Wiccamage, Coco-Chic, and jpraner. I kind of put this story to the side for a while, so I am just now working on chapters again. So if this one and the next seem a little off, I'm sorry guys and gals. Anyway, here is the new chapter:**

* * *

Every morning McCoy hands out daily health reports. It's a pretty bland event, consisting of blood draws and separate manila folders that are taken back after we have a chance to peruse the results. But this time, the good doctor just wouldn't leave.

He took Rogue aside first and talked to her in hushed tones as he felt her neck and took her pulse. Even when I just _happened_ to sneak closer with a perfectly legitimate reason (Someone had to clean up our campsite, right?), she glared and Hank shifted his focus to my neck and pulse. Should've known right then, it was going to be a long day.

"Something botherin' you Chere?" I ventured after watching her stomp, slam, and generally spread unpleasantness around the room for the past four hours.

"No."

"Ah, this be more of the natural Rogue charm then?"

She snarled and pointed a finger at me, "Don't mess with me, Swamp Rat!"

Well, that settled it. Now, I had to know exactly what pissed in Roguey's Cheerios. She wasn't the daintiest lady of the mansion, but that flash in her eyes was downright unsettling. Besides, figured I'd earned at least a few civil discussions after seventeen days together.

"This have something to do with Hank's extra visit?" She stormed away, but I wasn't about to back down. "Chere, we're in this together, no?"

Rogue whipped around and the expression on her face caught my breath in my throat. Shit. Was like staring into the eyes of a caged feral animal.

"So talk to Remy. What's going on?"

She took just a moment to choose her response; a swift kick to my right leg and a growl of, "Just back off!"

I caught her foot with both hands, but she twisted her upper body just enough to jerk it back into play. Completely checked in to anger mode, she unleashed a set of punches and kicks tainted by her lack of mental focus. They were easy enough to block (minus one or two sneaky attacks I'm almost certain were taught by the furry badger) but Rogue just kept swinging.

"If you wanted to dance," I grinned hoping the blast of emotional energy would tire her out enough to allow the sensible, uses-her-words Rogue to show up again. "All you had to do was ask, Chere."

"I am so tired of this crap!" She snapped as I leapt onto the top bunk and she tried to catch her breath, "I am tired of this place, every damn test, and I am fucking done with quarantine!"

Rogue gave a long sigh and gripped the edge of the table with ironclad force. Gave her a few seconds to settle into a calmer breathing pattern before climbing off the bunk. She didn't react when I took a step closer, so I risked it and walked within arm's reach.

"Why don't we try this again?" I questioned softly and sat down on the free part of the table closest to her, "What's got your pretty little self all worked up? Besides Remy, of course."

There it was. Yeah, it was faint and she shifted her head away, but I saw that tiny lift of her full lips clear as anything.

"So modest," She mumbled through a sigh and spared me a single glance. Thankfully those emeralds looked a lot more grounded in reality.

"Happen to be a man of _many_ admirable qualities."

Rogue laughed in spite of herself and nervously drummed her fingers. I was about to prod her again, when she finally whispered, "There was something wrong with my blood tests."

Would be lying if I said I hadn't expected it was going to be something like that. Didn't take away from the sting, though. Looking the woman over I couldn't help but notice how hard she was trying to keep herself together. With all that frustration expended trying to chase my ass around the room, she was left with a sort of restless exhaustion.

"What's McCoy's plan?"

"Keep an eye on the next few results." She sighed and suddenly looked right into my eyes, something few people ever do, especially not with that level of raw honesty, "I don't want to die in here, Remy."

"Whoa there," I grasped her gloved hand, "No ones talkin' about that, Chere."

"I'm not an idiot. I know they'll keep me locked away if I so much as catch a cold from that slime." She paused a moment and watched my face even closer, "I'm damming you too, you know. They'll never let you go if I die."

"No one's going to die." Squeezed her hand firmly and leaned close enough to spot those little flecks of brown hidden in her eyes, "And no one's ever gonna cage you in, petit."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"You happen to be friends with the finest thief in New Orleans, remember?"

Rogue paused, tilted her head, and flashed a tiny spark of the feistiness that sends my heart racing, "We're friends now, Swampie?"

"Friends, Amants maudits?" I shrugged, "All seems fitting, non?" Gave her one more hand squeeze and offered her the plain truth, "Either we walk out on day thirty together or we bust out in a blaze of glory. I promise you that, Rogue."

For a brief moment, Rogue's head leaned forward and her eyelids lowered, but mere centimeters from my lips something inside of her snapped. She pulled back and ungracefully shoved a few strands of hair behind her ear.

Yes, I know a kiss from those lips is a one-way ticket to coma-ville, but try telling that to a heart falling deeper each day for this mysterious spitfire.

"Anna."

I glanced at her face and noticed she was unable to look back at my eyes, "Pardon?"

"My name… it's Anna."

I couldn't help but grin as she nervously shuffled away from the table, "Enchante, _Anna_."

* * *

 **The French Remy speaks '** **Amants maudits' translates to cursed lovers. It is pretty much the French version of star-crossed lovers.**


	14. Rogue - Evening 19

**Disclaimer: I Do Not Own The X-Men Or Anything Related To The X-Men.**

 **Thanks for looking at the previous chapter. I appreciate you guys and gals taking time out of your busy lives to look at this chapter. This one is another attempt to get back into the flow of the story, so I hope it isn't too strange for your guys. Thanks again and here is the newest chapter:**

* * *

"You sure you wanna try _again_ , Anna?"

I rolled my shoulders to lessen the soreness and nodded affirmatively.

"Alright." He shifted into his fighting stance and motioned to his left leg, "Remember, your goal is to catch my ankle, Anna."

In retrospect, it might've been a bad idea to tell Remy my actual name. Honestly, I still can't believe I did. Not even my teachers know that name. Most of them probably figure my parents were ex-hippies or wannabe rock stars who had no business naming, or even having, a kid.

I shot forward, but Remy leaped right over me and made a disappointed clicking sound with his tongue, "You can't rely on brute force alone. Try being a little more creative." He paused, and then tagged on with a grin, "Good advice for most parts of your life, Chere."

"Shut up, Cajun." I snapped knowing full well what _part_ he was considering making more colorful.

As I tried a side fake-out, Remy's right leg caught me in the stomach and sent me tumbling backward. As if the umpteenth failure to replicate his flip-your-enemy-before-they-see-you-coming trick wasn't bad enough, the brat had the gall to waltz over with a smile as wide as the Mississippi.

Seriously, what possibly made my brain think sharing anything personal with this guy was a good idea? Even as the thought rambled around my head, I knew the answer. It was that look in his eyes when he promised to stay with me. I know some people are scared of those eyes, but, truthfully, I think they're amazing. And the way those crimson orbs shined so earnestly was something I couldn't forget.

"You're not focusing," He offered me a hand up from the floor, and then twisted my body around the moment I tried to throw him off balance. "You need to stop and think your moves through."

I broke from his grasp and rubbed my arms, sore from continuous sparring since breakfast yesterday. Well, more precisely, since Remy ate breakfast and I paced nervously across the floor yesterday. Since the big reveal about a possible abnormality in my blood, I hadn't been able to eat or relax in any capacity. Actually, the only thing I'd been able to do with a semblance of focus was spar.

When Remy first offered to teach me some _new moves_ , I was skeptical. What woman wouldn't question an offer like that from flirty LeBeau? Still, the chance to stretch my muscles and turn off my brain was too tempting to pass up. When we started quarantine, I'd thought it be nice to have a break from Logan's Danger Room exercises. Never considered the possibility I'd miss the excitement of running past lasers and dodging robots, but I really did.

Of course, there was probably a good chance my memories were a little polluted by the roaming realization there was a chance the last time I visited the danger room, would indeed be, the _last_ time. My mood plummeted as I mentally ticked off the ever-growing list of things I'd miss if I ended up with some toxic disease.

"Anna," Remy waved a hand in front of my face, "You in there?"

"Huh?"

"Why don't we take a break?" He studied me closely, the same concern from the past two days shining through.

"I don't need a break." I shook my head, "Let's keep going."

"Well, Remy does," He laughed softly at my put out expression and perched on the table. "Might not hurt you to try sitting down for a bit."

I didn't care for the way his tone shifted from light-hearted to something more worried. Didn't he realize I was already _well_ aware what he thought about my actions over the past two days? World-class thief or not, I'd noticed the looks he shot me when I paced around the room or ignored each meal.

"I'm _fine_ , Remy," I informed him curtly, before jumping into my next activity.

I'd long since learned the ladder at the end of my bunk worked well for pull-ups. As I started the first rep, though, my arms and back twinged in protest, causing me to outwardly wince.

"Anna, seriously," He frowned and placed a hand on my shoulder when I stepped away from the bed, "You need to rest."

"I know what I'm doing."

"So starving and injuring yourself are just part of your master plan?" He refused to look away. "I get that you're scared, but we both know it is time for you to stop beating yourself up and take a breather, woman."

" _Excuse me?_ " I growled, hating the fact I couldn't keep my internal fears out of my eyes when he stared at me like that. "What _I_ do is none of _your_ business Remy LeBeau!"

He opened his mouth to say something against my harsh rebuttal but stopped when McCoy entered the room.

We waited with bated breath as the man grinned (despite the tension of the space) and proclaimed, "It appears your earlier results were a lab mistake. As far as we can tell at this moment, my dear, you are _healthy_."

I'll never know what came over my brain in that moment. Between the joy of finally hearing something good and the relief pouring out of my heart, I dropped my defenses and wrapped my arms around the first warm thing I met, "I'm healthy!"

"As a horse, Chere." Remy's chest shook with a laugh of relief while his arms wrapped around me just tight enough to make me realize what I'd done.

I immediately pulled out of the embrace and tried to form some kind of rational explanation for why I had just broken my top three rules. Try as I could, nothing came to my mind but the unavoidable realizations, my cheeks were definitely the color of ripe tomatoes and I absolutely wanted another hug from that stupidly charming Cajun.

Maybe my blood is healthy, but something must be seriously wrong with my head.


End file.
